


The Gentleman, the Scoundrel, and the Lady

by Just_Peachy (Ballroom_of_the_Damned_and_Delirious)



Category: James and the Giant Peach - Roald Dahl
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Magic, Romance, post-James and the Giant Peach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:06:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ballroom_of_the_Damned_and_Delirious/pseuds/Just_Peachy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Grasshopper found her first, but the Centipede has never been known for his manners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter Grasshopper

"That's quite the interesting book you have, Miss."

"Wha?" Charlotte started and looked around frantically. No one there, but she could have sworn...

"Oh, I apologize. Up here," came the voice again, and Charlotte craned her neck to look up into the branches of the tree under which she had tucked herself.

What she saw made her gasp, and rush to her feet, clutching the book to her chest. The man...being...hopping down from the tree to stand tall in front of her, and held out his hand. "I am the Grasshopper."

Astonished, Charlotte shook hands with him...it. Grasshopper he was, she supposed, but with a top hat and a waist coat with a pocket watch chain hanging from it. He wore gloves and spats, in every way dressed the perfect gentleman. He cleared his throat to interrupt the consuming silence and said once more, "That's quite the interesting book you have."

She blinked a few times, puzzled. Then her eyes widened and dropped to her book as realization dawned. "B-but," she stuttered, trying to process her shock at the idea, "you and..." She gestured wildly between him and the book, as if she could not quite bring herself to say the insane words. The book she had been reading, and almost finished, was none other than "James and the Giant Peach" by Roald Dahl.

He nodded, understanding now why she seemed so flustered. "Yes, that Grasshopper and I are one in the same."

"B-but," she started again, "This book isn-isn't real...is it?"

He chuckled. "Very much so. James dictated to the esteemed Mr. Dahl, and while there may be some embellishment, the book is roughly true to reality."

Charlotte looked down, more than a little mortified at the revelation and at herself. How had anyone failed to mention that when they were moving to New York City she would meet her childhood heroes? How many people knew?! "I-I'm sorry for my behaviour, Mr. Grasshopper. T-terribly rude of me." She looked up into his giant black eyes and put out her hand again. "I'm Charlotte Bertram. My family just moved here, so I had no idea..." She trailed off, hoping he would finish the sentence for her.

"It's quite all right," he said, taking her hand and holding it up to his...mouth? Mandibles, she supposed. She felt a light pinch, and supposed that would be sort of like a humanoid grasshopper's version of a kiss. She tried to not pull her hand away out of reflex, though. 

She stood there quite blatantly studying him, and he made no move to refuse her perusal. Some human part of him even tingled as her eyes swept over the whole of his Grasshopper body. She had never seen anything quite like him, never even known anything like him existed. He couldn't tell how uncomfortable or comfortable she felt as she gazed at him, biting her lower lip in a small pondering gesture. He thought that rather adorable, and only focused on that tiny movement until he heard the soft tinkle of a bell. 

He cleared his throat again, startling her (again) out of her reverie, and held out his arm. The bell was too faint for her to hear, and so on reflex he asked, "Would you like to join us for tea?"

"Us?" She blinked and looked down at his outstretched elbow, and then once again at his big black eyes.

"Well, yes. Ms. Spider, Mrs. Ladybug, the Glow Worm, the Earthworm, and I," he explained patiently, waiting for her to accept. He never thought for a moment she would refuse.

"Um...." Charlotte stalled. An invitation to a tea with her favourite literary characters, nevermind that they were enormous bugs...and one of them deathly poisonous. "The centipede?"

For a moment the Grasshopper looked consternated, but then his expression cleared and he just gave his best impression of a grasshopper shrug. "No one knows, really. He stops in every now and again for some cakes, but unlike the rest of us he chooses to live elsewhere. For the life of me I have no idea why."

Charlotte giggled, the idea of the Grasshopper once again getting frustrated at the Centipede was somehow even more hilarious now that the story actually took place. 

The Grasshopper, seeing her giggle, simply chuckled himself, though he had no idea what was funny. He just took his prompting from this absurdly pretty human woman. "James is at school, of course."

"Of course," she answered as she took his arm. She would be at work now if she had found any before moving. Alas, she had not, and she had just been in the park escaping into her favourite book because job applications were so incredibly boring. Mental exhaustion came upon her just thinking about them. She allowed this rather debonair Grasshopper to lead her to the far side of the park, where a giant peach pit stood surrounded by a garden that could only be the work of Mrs. Ladybug. Charlotte laughed again at the absurdity, and then laughed even moreso at the briefly puzzled look the Grasshopper gave her before leading her inside.

"Mrs. Ladybug! We have a guest!" Grasshopper called from the front room. He turned to Charlotte. "May I take your coat?" Still staring at him, and at their surroundings, she doffed her jacket and handed it to him. The walls were brown and heavily ridged, retained the texture of the pit, and the whole place smelled very strongly of peaches, but Charlotte supposed she did not mind either of those things.

"Oh, what joy!" Mrs. Ladybug exclaimed as she stepped into the front room, clasping her hands in front of her, "And me just finishing up the cakes, too! Welcome, dear!" Mrs. Ladybug took both of Charlotte's hands, as Grasshopper made the introductions, shook them with extreme enthusiasm. "It's not often we get such pretty visitors to this house."

Grasshopper shrugged in amused acknowledgement when Mrs. Ladybug levelled a point stare at him. Charlotte did not notice this, but it would have seemed very odd indeed. 

"The others should be along shortly, and we can all sit down to a nice cup of tea on this rather chilly day," Mrs. Ladybug announced as she bustled back into the kitchen, leaving Charlotte alone once more with Grasshopper for company. 

"Shall we sit?" He motioned to a living room and she followed him to a deep brown couch upon which they both gingerly sat, not looking at each other but also not really avoiding each other. It was a companionable silence, and Charlotte laid her book on the coffee table, only now realizing she still held it. 

"Now this will be just lovely," Mrs. Ladybug announced, rushing in with tea and cakes and myriad other things in her six hands. She was shortly followed by all the aforementioned creatures, who simply nodded as Grasshopper introduced them to Charlotte and Charlotte to them. Charlotte realized she stared, a bit too much, so she busied herself with sugar after Mrs. Ladybug had poured her tea. Silence followed for a few minutes as everyone tucked in, no one particularly caring who she was or where she'd come from. Charlotte contented herself with gazing about the room, making sure her eyes never fixed too long on one face, or body part.

"Hiya, ladies and germs!" A gruffvoice sounded from the doorway and everyone looked up to see the Centipeded strolling in. Charlotte, not having prepared for this interruption, did not bother to keep herself from staring at him. To her, he was uglier than the Grasshopper, as his personality had been in the book. 

"Scoot over," he commanded, quite rudely, as he pushed Charlotte to the side so he could squeeze on the couch. She slid over and pinned Grasshopper against the arm, their hands meeting. 

She never noticed the contact but the Grasshopper certainly could not have missed it...it or anything else she did, for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would leave a comment, please be specific. These fanfictions are practice for my writing, and I would like to know what I do well and what I'm doing wrong. Thank you! I appreciate it!


	2. Well, That's Awkward

Having had his fill of cakes, never touching his tea, Centipeded sat for several minutes just licking his fingers. It made a slurping sound that almost made Charlotte visibly cringe, but she kept the urge deep inside. It wouldn't do to offend these...giant...bugs...ew...

Grasshopper, however, felt no such prudence to keep his silence, and leaned forward to glare visibly at Centipede. "If you don't mind," he said, quite snippily.

Centipeded glanced at him, then smiled, all his teeth showing like two rows of white beads, and started sucking on his fingers more loudly, a popping sound emitting with each one. "I don't," he said between sucks.

Finally, Charlotte couldn't take the sounds any more and slapped Centipede's arms down from his mouth. "Stop," she ordered, staring into his eyes intensely. 

His beady eyes went wide as they could go - which wasn't very because they were so small - and he just gaped at her...for several seconds.

Charlotte closed her eyes as if for patience. She had done it again: stopped thinking. The noise just irritated her so much...

Recovering himself, Centipede smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you too, toots," he said rakishly...somewhat trying too hard, she noted. She simply scowled and turned back to her tea, which had been on the table growing cold in the interlude. She felt Grasshopper fussing beside her, and glanced over to see him just glaring at his tea.

Upon sipping the liquid, she held back a disgusted look and did not blame him for glaring at it. A more horrid cup of tea she had never tasted, but she forced it down anyway. Who would ever want to offend Mrs. Ladybug? 

Everyone remained silent, possibly trying to think of what to say, or possibly just enjoying their tea. Either way, they gave Charlotte time to glance about the peach pit they called home. It was bigger than it looked, with a little round window letting light in from the front wall, illuminating the pastels Mrs. Ladybug had used to decorate the home and casting an eerie glow on the exoskeletons of all but Earthworm, who had no exoskeleton. 

Speaking of Earthworm, he was the one to speak next, having probably felt awkward and trying to break the silence. "This tea is delicious, Mrs. Ladybug," he murmured, only looking into a vague part of the wall. Blind, Charlotte remembered. Earthworm was one of the least memorable characters of the book. She wondered if he'd be even less memorable in person, but she doubted it. Perhaps he would be memorable for terrible taste...

Silence fell again, and next it was Mrs. Spider who spoke up, looking straight at Charlotte, "So, darling, you are friends of...the Grasshopper?"

Startled at being addressed by a black widow (Charlotte had never been known for her terrible love of spiders), she muttered shyly, "Y-yes."

Ms. Spider was quite taken with this girl who was afraid of her. It had been a long time since she had struck fear into the hearts of any one. She narrowed her eyes at the girl and saw Charlotte visibly shudder. How wonderful. She stood and scuttled over to the couch, hopping on the wall and sneaking over to the back. She could see the sweat popping up all over the back of Charlotte's neck as she whispered, "How delightful that you could join us for tea."

Charlotte tried to speak, tried to say 'thank you,' but could not get the words out. This was not what she expected. Sure, Ms. Spider was wonderful as a character, but in real life? Thank you, no.

Grasshopper came to her rescue, shooing Ms. Spider with a wave of his hand. "Please stop. I would like this girl to not be afraid of who I live with." All fellow bugs stared aghast at him, and he cleared his throat several times and adjusted his monocle. The atmosphere suddenly became quite tense, Charlotte could not help but notice. "It's simply that she has only just moved here and...and she needs friends." He nodded once, twice decisively, and sipped his tea avoiding everyone's gaze.

There definitely seemed to be something he didn't say, but it seemed Centipede was more than willing to say it for him. "Ooo...somebug is in lo-ove," he teased in a simper, possibly mimicking a gossipy schoolgirl, and Charlotte watched as the grasshopper became more embarrassed. He did not blush, but his mandibles definitely descended deeper into his teacup. 

Charlotte seemed no stranger to blushing, though, and she felt her cheeks and ears become very warm at the insinuation. Her...and a grasshopper? She could not even think it. Seemed too weird. Too...bestial. 

The Centipeded seemed determined to continue, this time in a sing-song voice, "Charlotte and Grasshopper sittin in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."

"Centipede," scolded the ladybug, "I will not tolerate that kind of childishness at my tea. You may take yourself elsewhere if you wish to continue."

That shut Centipede up real quick, and chastised he just ate his fifth (Charlotte had kept count) cake in silence.

Moments of awkward silence later, Grasshopper set his teacup and saucer down on the table quite abruptly and stood, offering Charlotte his arm. "Shall we take a stroll about the park?"

Charlotte looked up at him, afraid she might blush again, and took his arm. She needed to escape the awkward silence of the tea, knowing she would probably not return. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Ladybug," the grasshopper said abruptly, and Charlotte nodded and mumbled a quick thank you before being led out of the room and out of the peach pit.

The sun shined and the birds chirped and all of nature made the day quite peaceful. Unfortunately, Charlotte's head was a mess and so was the grasshopper's. "I apologize for the Centipede's ludicrous behaviour," he mumbled, so she barely heard him.

"Oh it's..." Was it all right? Was that really what she wanted to say next? She thought about it a bit, weighed the pros and cons of her question, and then finally asked it anyway. "Was he...right? Do you really...?" She became confused just thinking about it, and let the question hang in the air. She didn't even really expect an answer. Why would he answer an unfinished question? Grasshopper apparently was too polite for his own good.

"Charlotte, I..." he paused, and she looked up at him, squinting against the glare of the sun. He continued to falter, and she saved him the complete fall. She took both his hands in hers and looked up into his big black eyes. 

"If you do, you probably also know it could not really happen," she paused and he sucked in breath. She could almost feel him deflating, but he knew the reasons as much as she did. "I'm sure you have a perfectly good personality, but...you're a grasshopper and I'm..."

"...a human," he finished before her, and let out the breath, "I know. I just...saw you reading that book, and you seem so sweet and good and..."

She interrupted him. "Stop. This isn't to say we cannot be friends."

His antennae perked up a little bit, and went back down when she said, "but it can never lead to anything else."

He nodded his understanding - really, what could there possibly be to misunderstand? - and they continued to walk around the lake arm in arm, silent for several moments, each thinking their own private thoughts. "I do hope you're not too scared to come to tea again."

She laughed aloud, louder than she should have. Most people reacted to her laugh by making fun of it, or staring at her like she committed a major faux pas. The grasshopper simply waited, and after getting over this startling response, she asked, "Afraid of what? Centipede, Ms. Spider, or Mrs. Ladybug's atrocious tea?"

"Mrs. Ladybug's tea is not atrocious!" The Grasshopper drew himself up to defend the ladybug.

"Not to you, perhaps. Maybe it's not suitable for human consumption!"

Grasshopper thought about this for a moment, and answered, "James never drinks it, either..." Charlotte laughed again, and patted Grasshopper's arm. 

Now the silence was more companionable, and they both found comfort in it. Finally, a question Charlotte could not get out of her head suddenly came out of her mouth, "What is your name?"

Silence, and then, "What do you mean?"

"Your name?" She tilted her head, thinking. "It's awkward to call you Grasshopper all the time. I had simply wondered if you had a less awkward name to call yourself." 

"Never thought about it before," he said, and she felt him shrug. This did not seem that odd.

She simply stated, "We must think of a name for you, then."

He chuckled, much the gentleman, and said nothing to her notion. She continued to occupy herself by coming up with names for him.

He rejected her every suggestion, and after a while she sighed dramatically and said, "If you reject every name I come up with we will get nowhere."

"I won't reject every name," he said diplomatically. "Just every name that I dislike." To that she elbowed him in the side, and he chuckled once more.


	3. Romantic Notions

She definitely put off the applications long enough! She needed to get them finished and turned in...so her mother said. Charlotte sighed, hating this. The going up to people, having them judge you and reject you out of hand. It all seemed a rather crude process. This should all be easier. Someone should just choose her for whatever work. She shouldn't have to WORK to find work. How vulgar. 

So far, she had applied to a newspaper as a typist; she applied to various businesses as a receptionist and/or secretary and/or maker of coffee; she even applied to an ice cream shop! All bid her come back tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow. She meandered down the street, humming a mystery tune, to her last destination: a schoolhouse. A teacher. She could be a schoolteacher. Why not? She had made some sort of living in her previous small town teaching local children how to read. She had no hope or pretensions that she could save the children, but being teacher could be worth trying. 

After her application was handed in, after some very pointed questions by the lead teacher she handed it to, she turned to head home. Meeting all these new people certainly drained her of energy, and she sighed in relief that she could just sink into her bed and pull out her book and just read. 

"Hi ya, toots!" She jumped a little, but kept walking as Centipede fell in step beside her. "How's the day?"

"Fine," Charlotte said curtly, not really wanting a conversation with Centipede. After the awkward situation of the other day, she had neither seen Grasshopper nor Centipede, and she would much rather happen upon Grasshopper first. 

"The ice in your voice freezes me right to the bone, and believe me," she heard him flick a lighter awake, "I know what that feels like."

She cringed, remembering that part. "That's true? About you and...the clouds?" 

Centipede laughed, and she watched him puff at his cigar as they walked. "Yes, and I wouldn't ever relive it."

"Well you won't have to," she said pragmatically. "Aren't you a business-owner now?" 

He smiled, as if pleased that she knew so much about him. "I might be. Shoe business. Couldn't find anybody sold enough shoes for myself."

"You don't," she looked down curiously, "use that many of your feet to walk."

"No, not when I'm talking to people. I do generally, on my own. More comfortable that way."

"Oh," awkward, "then don't let me stop you." 

He chuckled, gruff as if he'd smoked way too much in his life, "I'll be fine. Where are we going, anyway?"

Charlotte looked around. She didn't actually know where they were. She had been so engrossed in thought and conversation with the bug that she'd quite forgotten to look where she was going. "I've no idea, anymore. I'd meant to go home, but we don't seem to be..." she trailed off. How awkward. The theme of her life. "Do you know where we are?"

Centipede nodded. "I do." He tilted his head as they halted, thinking. He nodded. "Wanna see something, toots?"

"My name's not toots," she objected. It grated every time he addressed her as such. "It's Charlotte."

He blinked at her, seeming amused. "All right, lady. Charlotte. Happy?" She nodded curtly, and he took her hand in the only of his not covered with shoes. Hands, feet, mouths. They were more human than she'd thought when she read the book. Why wouldn't they be? How odd.

She pondered this as he led her hurriedly down the street. They brushed past all manner of shop, through a small alley and to a ladder, where he bade her climb. "This is a fire escape," she observed, looking up the ladder cautiously.

"The lady's a genius!" Centipede exclaimed. "Up you go!" He pressed her hand onto the first rung, and forced her to climb as he came very quickly behind her. She reached the first platform. "Up and up and up!" He pushed her to the next ladder, and then the next, and the next, until she quite ran out of ladders.

She looked around, very befuddled. They were nowhere. All she saw were brick buildings. Perhaps a little shorter than this one, but nonetheless...

"In! In! In!" He opened a window for her to climb into. She hesitated. Breaking and entering. Not a fantastic first outing with Centipede.

At her hesitation, he just sighed in exasperation. "It's my building! In!" 

Feeling a little hassled - this was not at all her plan for this evening - she scrambled into the window and he followed right behind. "To the stairs!" He announced, and led her. Up and up and up, she said to herself. Stairs and stairs and stairs. Finally, they reached a door which said "ROOF" in scratched orange letters. He stepped in front of her and held the door open. "Lady," he said, bowing low. Was he mocking her? What could he possibly have to mock her for? 

Charlotte stepped through, breathing heavily at the exertion, and he took her hand to make her wait as he closed the door behind them. He pulled her along until they faced the piers overlooking the Hudson River and the land beyond. Charlotte put a hand to her lips at the sight. It was just reaching dusk with clear skies, so she saw the sun glinting off all the buildings as they began to light up to prepare for the dark. The sun shone on the river just above its horizon, and she could not hear anything except the whoosh of the wind in her ears and some honking of cars far below. She looked up, at the cascade of colours, blue to purple to orange to yellow, from the night to the not-quite-night where the sun sank. Stars winked in and out of existence as she watched the darkest of the sky, and the moon sat somewhere in the pink bit. She felt herself smiling, quite forgot where she stood and who she stood there with, and just stared at the exquisite scene before her.

"I like it up here. Nice to watch," Centipede said, breaking the silence. She turned her head to look at him, and he shrugged as he stared out into the fading light. "I appreciate pretty things now and then," he admitted, and winked at her before looking away again. She felt herself start to blush, and turned away. Same problem as with Grasshopper. No way she would even consider a bug. She gulped, and looked over at his yellow skin to remind herself. This bug had an abhorrent personality as well, didn't he? No respect for women, no respect for the seriousness of life. He smoked and drank and gambled, didn't he? Even if he were a man, he would be the type of man who would repel her, wouldn't he?

Sunsets are romantic, but not quite _that_ romantic. She didn't think she needed to explain herself to him. He seemed to only appreciate her aesthetic value, anyway. He probably didn't actually think any way at all about her except that he thought her pretty. Why in the world did bugs find her attractive? No human men ever had. Why bugs?

Why _her_?

***

He brought her up here through some sort of impulse. He suddenly had the urge as he watched her confused expression after he'd asked where they were going. Heaven help him. He took her up the fire escape to confuse her, positive she'd never climbed up a fire escape and through a window before. 

The roof was where he went to think. A businessman, there were very few times those days he was left alone. It was an escape, and his favourite place in the world, looking down over New York City and the Hudson below. He was just lucky that sunset happened as they arrived. She grew silent and sucked in breath, covering her mouth with her thin fingers. Had Grasshopper noticed the way her lips naturally curled at the corners as if she would smile at any moment, or that her lips were quite classically shapely? Had Grasshopper noticed the strength of her jaw and the adventurous glint in her eyes? Had Grasshopper noticed the little brown curls in front of her ears when she pulled her hair back in a ponytail? Centipede hoped not. He suddenly wanted all these things for himself. He wanted her small smile as she stared up at the stars for himself. He wanted her easy blush she probably thought he didn't notice. Hell, he even wanted her awkward silences as she thought about what to say next! 

He stared down at the world below, puzzled. When had he become a romantic? He resigned himself long ago to the fact that he could never be with a human woman...or a centipede (he couldn't understand them any more, anyway). He tried to be with Miss Spider, but she became quickly uninterested in his suit. He was, she said, quite abhorrent to everyone who wasn't James. Nasty words were exchanged, and that's when he moved out of the Peach to find his own place, eventually settling in a loft in his factory building and popping round for tea every so often. 

Only a human would do, but that could never work. He held none of the fancier notions of the Grasshopper. _Physical things don't matter. It's the soul that counts!_ He inwardly groaned and almost spat at the thought. He knew how the world worked, was jaded enough to know. Never. Never. Never. That sort of happiness could no longer be his.

But then, he thought, he _had_ been turned into a human-like Centipede. He became quite a bit bigger than his original self, could suddenly speak English, and had hands and feet and teeth and a tongue with which to speak. He liked to think he was a more evolved humanoid than the Grasshopper, who still had his mandibles. At least Centipede could kiss a lady properly, should he desire to put himself in that position. He didn't exactly have the...necessary...parts to carry through with that sort of relationship. He had been turned humanoid, though, so why couldn't he turn...?

No. Impossible. No matter how much he wanted this brown-haired beauty, he could not have her. He would just have to enjoy her conversation and her company. Centipede grimaced while she wasn't looking. That's Grasshopper stuff.

He glanced at her again, and noticed the breeze had picked some strands of her hair out of its tie. The strands blew behind her into the breeze. He grew transfixed, and as she sighed he took her hand in his own. She did not notice, or maybe she did and did not mind. Either way...

This could _never_ be. 

_Never._

***

Grasshopper had been reading Austen when he heard it: her laughter. He had no idea why she would be here at this hour, but he wouldn't question it. Thrilled, a strange feeling pooling in his middle, he very carefully bookmarked his book and strode to the door to welcome her back. He hadn't sought her out the last couple of days. Hadn't wanted to make her feel awkward.

He watched as she rounded the corner with...Centipede? Hand in hand with Centipede. What? How...? He looked down, consternated, and had to gather his wits about him to hurry back inside and pretend he had seen nothing. It would not do to be jealous. Had she not established that they could never be, because he was a bug? 

"Seems to have no problem with centipedes, though," he mumbled bitterly, and yanked his book open so hard he ripped some of the pages out.

Oh well. He'd read those, anyway. He angrily crumpled them up and stuffed them behind a cushion, as he heard the sound of her laughter again, this time mixed with Centipede's.

This was Centipede's doing, he knew. Through some sort of trick, or mind game, Centipede had deceived her somehow and was leading her on. How cruel. Grasshopper would never do that to her. Grasshopper had to make her _see_ that he would never hurt her in that way. She needed to understand what a scoundrel Centipede was, and how Grasshopper would never betray her in the way that he felt betrayed just then.

Bloody Centipede...


	4. If Only to Touch Her

"Yes! Finally!" Contract in hand, Charlotte strode confidently down the street. Her parents would be so happy. She would be happy, being able to move out of the house. Every day she had to be there was stressful. She just wanted to live somewhere quiet and boring. No one to bother her. 

"Heya, babe," she heard on her walk home. "What's shakin'?"

She paused, absurdly pleased at the gruff voice, despite his moniker for her. She had not seen Centipede for a week, and in that time she had been interviewed and successfully obtained her job at the school. It seemed a decent time for him to intercept her again.

"Do you watch this street to see if I walk down?" She asked him this playfully, and paused her step just enough for him to catch up with her. He fell in step beside her.

"Why are you smiling so much?"

She flourished her contract in front of his face. "I have a job!"

"Congratulations!" Centipede exclaimed. "This calls for a celebration?"

Immediately Charlotte quieted. "Well, I don't think..."

"Nonsense! We'll throw something together for you!" He turned and strode off toward Central Park, presumably to tell someone else to get ready for the party, or something. She rolled her eyes, smiled ruefully, and walked on.

"That's nice, honey," her mother answered at her news, a little less happy than Charlotte expected. She sounded oddly apathetic. Charlotte had thought her mother would be overjoyed, but she wasn't, so all Charlotte could do was walk back to her room and sink onto her bed. She stared at the papers in her hands, wondering what they were. Nothing to be proud of, apparently.

Tears welling up, she balled the papers up in a fist and threw them across the room, and sank onto her pillow, silent tears welling up in her eyes. 

She did not know how long she dozed, but Charlotte awoke to a sudden scream. She bolted upright and rushed to the front of house, scared for the worst. Thankfully, all she saw was Centipede. 

"What was that sound?" She asked him as she approached.

Centipede looked down at the prone body before him. "I may have scared her a bit." 

Charlotte looked down at her mother, too, who most definitely had fainted. "Can you help me move her?" Business, and then she could spend time with her new friend. Centipede bent down and scooped up her mother, and Charlotte led them to a couch in the living room. 

Her mother deposited, Charlotte followed Centipede outside the front door. "Do you want to wait for her to wake up?"

Charlotte looked at him, then back into the house, and then back at him again, debating her options. Finally she shrugged. Would her mom have stayed home? "She'll be fine," Charlotte announced, "but why are you here?"

Centipede grinned his beady grin, and took her hand. "It's a surprise, babe," he said as he led her down the sidewalk in the direction of the park.

"My name's not..."

"Babe, I know," he acknowledged, and laughed. "Have a sense of humour!" 

Charlotte scowled, but when Centipede looked at her she could not hold the face long, and she just laughed at him. "Please just call me Charlotte."

"Can I call you..." Centipede thought about it for a moment, and continued, "Can I call you Lottie?"

Charlotte considered this, considered him, and finally nodded. It would not be so bad to have a nickname; she'd never had a good enough relationship with a person to warrant one before then. It was nice. 

"Okay, Lottie. Lottie **Lottie** _Lottie_ ," he tried it out with different inflections on his tongue, making her giggle.

Finally, they reached their destination. "My lady," Centipede said and swept a low bow, gesturing toward the doorway. She stepped through, hesitantly, and was met with a sudden onslaught of "Congratulations!" shouts and the bugs there ushered her into a main room. The peach pit really was bigger than it looked from the outside, she noted as she surveyed the gathering. There were all the bugs, but there were a few humans too. They were probably friends of James', who strode to her and held his hand out. He must have been fourteen at that point, and obviously his adopted family had been teaching him manners. 

"James Trotter," he announced to her, and she smiled a small smile.

"Charlotte Blair," she told him, and shook his hand firmly. She might be shy, but she never liked a loose handshake. Her father taught her that long ago.

"Nice to meet you."

"And you."

"Where are you from?" James appeared to wish to keep the conversation going, but she did not mind so long as she could think of something to say. Still holding Centipede's hand, she was drawn into conversation about her life before her move to New York. He seemed to not mind it. He enjoyed listening to her speak, and watching her bite her lower lip when she thought, and wanting to play with a strand of that curly hair in front of her ear like she played with it, and...

"Would you like a drink?" He bent down and asked her quietly. 

She just answered, "Please," and he broke her grip and went to the kitchen.

Two hours later, long after the guests left and the residents of the house, with Charlotte, retired to the parlour, Charlotte realized what had been wrong. Centipede sat beside her, holding her hand, which she didn't mind so much, but as she looked at all the members of the bug family and James, she saw that Grasshopper was missing.

"How long has Grasshopper been gone?" Charlotte asked, wondering if perhaps he left after the party started. 

"All day, dear," Miss Ladybug told her. "He left earlier this morning, but I haven't seen him since!"

"Well, do you know where he went?" She did want to share her news with Grasshopper, even though she preferred Centipede's easygoing (read: less serious) affections, because he was her first friend.

"Ah, no," said the ladybug, "but I'm sure he's fine. Probably at practice or the like." 

Charlotte tilted her head. "Violin," Centipede supplied, and squeezed her hand to remind her of his existence. He may have been feeling a little jealous at her concern for the other bug. 

*

He stumbled several times walking home. It felt like all the parts of his body were extremely wobbly and like he might collapse in a puddle at any moment. On shaky legs, he walked to the door, and almost fell through as he opened it with barely-used hands. 

"Hello, everyone," he announced as he stepped into the door. As they all stared at him, he cleared his throat and asked, "May I sit? I'm a trifle sore." With that, he sank to the floor and just lay there, staring at them from his very low vantage point.

It was James to speak first. "Who are you?" 

"Oh, pardon me." He licked his new lips and practiced the words with his new mouth before saying aloud. Finally, he very carefully pronounced, "I am the Grasshopper."

The gasps of shock were expected, and the "Prove it" from Centipede was definitely expected. 

No one else was quite as credulous, and Miss Ladybug even pressed a glass of water into his hands. He tried to maneuver it to his mouth but all he did was spill it on his face. 

"Here, let me help you," James said as he rushed over to help Grasshopper sit properly. Grasshopper said a small "thank you" and drank. An odd sensation, and one he's not used to, is the feeling of the cool liquid spilling over his tongue and running down his throat. He felt it all the way to his chest. His human chest.

He looked around the room with new eyes, better able to see colours and detail than before, and grew embarrassed to see Charlotte among the party. She stared at him quite incredulously, as if surprise only scratched the surface of her reaction, with her hand to her mouth. He never meant her to see him in his new body. He only wanted to seek her out when he became more used to it.

"Hi, Charlotte." He had to address her. She was the reason for his current transformation, after all.

*

"H-hi," Charlotte said through her hand, which she couldn't seem to move. She just stared down at the lanky, dark-haired man sitting on the floor. He seemed very wobbly, like he may have had one too many drinks. His cheekbones high, his lips thin, his chin pointed, he looked reminiscent of the Grasshopper. She believed him, even if Centipede grumbled next to her.

"Well, this is a surprise," Miss Ladybug said to the room at large, and no one was sure if that warranted a response. They were too busy trying to either figure out how he did it or figure out why, but the latter was pretty clear to the majority of them.

This is why they all heard Charlotte say "Ow!" when Centipede squeezed her fingers a little too hard. She grabbed her hand away and massaged her fingers, looking reproachfully at him. 

"Sorry, Lottie," he said very loudly, so Grasshopper could hear him. He knew it would provoke at least a little irritation. He saw Grasshopper cringe, and he smiled and said, "I did NOT mean to do that. Lot-tie," enunciating every syllable. 

Charlotte, not exactly stupid, saw what he was doing and swatted him. How cruel. She was not ignorant. She knew Grasshopper found a way to change to a human for her. She almost was flattered by it, but she could see that Grasshopper would not get any more used to his human body if Centipede kept annoying him.

She stood, and smiled brightly. "Come on, Grasshopper. Let's teach you how to be a human!" It may have been a little vindictive, and she gave Centipede some amount of credit for not making a sound or a move. She strode over to Grasshopper and offered him her hand to lever him up, let him lean on her, and led him out into the front hall and then out the door. 

It felt good to have an arm around her shoulders, even though Grasshopper didn't quite understand what it was to "feel" in this body. She felt warm, and that seemed to be his first lesson in being human: what it felt like to hold Charlotte.


	5. The First Kiss

They left the peach pit. The sun shined and birds tweeted in a very picturesque scene. They walked - Grasshopper hobbled, rather - along the path leading further into the park.

"Now you'll really need a new name," Charlotte told him from under his arm. He leaned on her with an arm draped around her shoulders to support himself. She felt his nervous chuckle as he focused on getting his balance. He needed to concentrate, or he would apparently collapse on her. Perhaps she shouldn't try to lighten the mood just yet. 

Feeling the strain in her neck, Charlotte asked, "Think you can walk by yourself for a minute?" 

Grasshopper paused in step, and nodded, but when she slowly let him go he took a couple more steps and fell on his bottom in the grass. She giggled at him. She couldn't help it! He just looked so forlorn and befuddled, staring at his new legs with contempt. She hurried to sit beside him and take his hand to comfort him. He made a good effort.

He wrapped his fingers around her hand like he were a baby curling them for the first time and looked out over the park grounds. "I am sorry. I thought this would be an easier transformation for me." He stumbled over his words, as if nervous to speak to her, and Charlotte patted his shoulder with her free hand.

"You've changed a lot. You'll be grand," she said. "But how did you do it?" 

He looked at her, stared, his brown eyes wary. "A magic woman."

Charlotte started to laugh, then saw he seemed serious, and instead replied, "I thought those were tricks and fakes." He put his hand through his hair, making it even messier, and she reflexively reached up to fix it. He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. 

They sat quietly, and she just watched him with his eyes closed. His new shaggy dark brown hair seemed to shine in the sun, and his eyelashes were thin but numerous. Charlotte found it interesting the way his nose and jaw were long and thin, like the grasshopper that he had been, and she lightly ran her fingers down his cheek, musing that his cheekbones might cut her hand. With this motion, he seemed to remember where he was, and Grasshopper took her hand in his long, spindly fingers, and brought it down to rest on his knee.

They were so quiet, she jumped a little when he spoke again: "Most of them are fakes, but every now and then you come across a magic woman who can do what she says she can do. Remember how I became humanoid to begin with." His words were still shaky, but more sure now as he became used to making the sounds with his tongue and his vocal chords. 

She had to shuffle her thoughts to go back to the conversation they had been having, and nodded, staring at his knee. His limbs were very bony, with protruding joints like he retained some bit of the grasshopper shape. "Did it hurt? Changing, I mean."

"Well," he paused, and shyly touched her hand, caressing it lightly with his thumb, "in some ways. A lot of the pain just came from shedding my skin, and then the new muscles, as you may have noticed, are tender and unused."

Charlotte nodded, thinking back to her biology classes. "I suppose you must feel...very...loose?" She had an image of him bursting into a puddle, and giggled at herself. Grasshopper just looked down at her bemused. 

"What is so funny?" This made her giggle harder, though she knew he must think her a fool. Charlotte tried to catch her breath, but every time she saw his expression she started laughing anew, and the muscles in her stomach started cramping.

Laying back in the grass, she gasped and gasped and sucked in a deep breath. "I imagined... you... collapsing into... a puddle!"

At his, still very confused, expression she giggled more, and he allowed her to lay there and giggle herself to silence. "You've probably actually been afraid that would happen. I know it shouldn't be so funny," she told him.

He offered her a small smile, and reached over to brush a few strands of hair behind her ear. At his touch she closed her eyes, it did feel good, and made a few relaxed incoherent sounds under the warm sun and his careful caress.

The only problem in all of this, both of them mused as they relaxed together, is who would speak up first as to Grasshopper's obvious motives.

*

"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" Centipede exclaimed to Miss Spider as he stomped into her room and slammed the door. All the bugs spent the evening in relative awkward silence, each contemplating independently the implications of what Grasshopper had done. Centipede knew Charlotte was more attracted to him than to Grasshopper, so he found it very offensive that Grasshopper now had the upper hand.

Miss Spider sat back and considered Centipede, and finally said, "He did it for the girl, and why should that be so bad? Grasshopper deserves happiness just as much as you or I."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Centipede just scowled at her.

"Ah." Shrewd Miss Spider put her black stick of a hand to her head in thought. "You want her too."

Centipede grunted but did not look at her. He felt like yelling, like slamming things and throwing things...especially if those things include Grasshopper. 

Miss Spider looked him straight in the eye. "You are jealous," she accused, and he put his two front hands up in supplication. 

"I won't deny it," he said without looking at her, "and Grasshopper KNOWS how I feel about her. Selfish piece of--" 

"And you know how Grasshopper feels about her, but you still pursue it." 

"But I DESERVE her, and she likes me more than she likes HIM," he puffed out his chest and beat it a little with a fist, "I'm fun, genial, I know where all the best parties are, I own my own business. What does HE have, that I don't have? A violin?" His voice had gotten higher and higher with anger, and Miss Spider simply waited for him to let out his testosterone and rage. 

"Perhaps," she said sagely, "you need to let her decide what you have, and what he has. She is a woman. Let her make a choice." 

Centipede stayed quiet, thinking hard about his dilemma, and finally he snapped his fingers with the force of his, extremely obvious, idea. "I'll just have to win her back; I'll show her what she's missing." 

He scuttled out the door, and Miss Spider was left with her chin resting on a hand, hoping Charlotte would not be too overwhelmed. Unlike Grasshopper, Centipede had never mastered the art of subtlety. 

*One month later, an autumn evening. There had been a few clouds, but mostly the sky was clear. The air warm and balmy, insects hummed excited at the twilight.* 

"You know," Charlotte turned over onto her stomach, propping her head up on her hands to look at Grasshopper, a more filled out, less spindly Grasshopper, "eventually you're going to have to tell me what you want to tell me." Being coy seemed useless, because she knew all he did was torture himself, so she spoke bluntly instead. She did feel a little pang of guilt, though, when his mouth began to open and close over and over again, much like a fish. A walking puddle with a fish in. That's what he had become. At such an impending poignant moment, though, she quelled her mirth. It had been a month, and through that time he had taken her to dinners and walked with her along quays, held her hand and gave her flowers (hand-picked, even). 

However fervently he pursued her, though, she wanted them to move a little faster. Now that he turned human, she saw little reason why they should not be together. Smart, quiet, funny, and enamored with her, Grasshopper attracted all of her. She did not think she would get bored with him, and Centipede seemed to not want anything to do with her anymore. 

"I...well, I..." He started and stopped several times more, and she buried her face in the soft grass and groaned. 

"Just _say_ it," she insisted to the earth. She felt a finger snake under her chin, and prompt her to lift her face. Her heart fluttered like butterfly wings, and she allowed herself to be guided. She expected more words, more fumbling words that never said exactly what they meant. She received, but never expected, Grasshopper's face looming close, his lids nearly closed as he leaned in, hesitating, lips hovering over hers. 

She moved forward only slightly. "Or...that," she murmured, the movement of her lips just enough to brush them against his. She felt him suck in breath, and she smiled. She always surprised herself from the thrill she had giving other men their first kisses. Charlotte tilted her head so that her mouth slanted against his, and began to establish a rhythm. He seemed to know mostly what to do, and soon after she began he started moving his lips too. She rose on her knees, and he rose with her, their lips never parting, and she put her hands on both sides of his face to steady them both as she leaned into his embrace. 

"Oof!" He fell backward and she fell on top of him, and she collapsed in giggles on his chest. She even kept giggling as he pulled her up and put his lips to hers again. She felt his tongue at her lips, asking permission to enter, and she willingly gave it. She nudged his lips open with her tongue and dipped inside, and invited his inside her. He still seemed shy, but as she plied him with her tongue he became more confident and ran his palms down her sides to her lower back, just above her bottom. He pressed against her there, and the sensation of his arousal shocked her. Not aware beforehand that he felt this much lust for her, shocked at how utterly ungentlemanly that seemed, her body nevertheless responded when he softly pressed against her. 

Her body tightening, Charlotte rolled them over so he lay on top of her, and reveled in the weight of his body. They were so involved in their passion that they did not notice the extra presence striding toward them through the grass. 

"Well, ain't this a lovely sight?" An abrasive, gravelly voice came from above them, and to Charlotte's dismay Grasshopper hurried off of her and stood. 

Irritated at Centipede, sad that Grasshopper felt embarrassed at their position, Charlotte just propped herself up on her elbows and glared at the tall thin figure in the dark. She felt her eyes widen, as she realized exactly what she stared at: Centipede, but not Centipede. She sighed in consternation and let herself collapse in the grass. He became human for her too. How obnoxious. For a moment she thought her world would be simple, and lovely. Grasshopper and Charlotte. They made quite a pair, and now he would be concerned and jealous over Centipede. Stupid, stupid Centipede! He would _not_ ruin this for her. 

"Hiya, Lottie!" Centipede said, cheerful. 

That made her even angrier, and she held up her hand to Grasshopper, who levered her up. "You have _no right,_ " she declared to the very tall man, "disappearing for months and then showing up _just_ to get between him and me." She grabbed Grasshopper's hand, and he stumbled after her as she pulled him violently away toward home. Her home. She did not want to intrude upon Mrs. Ladybug while she was absolutely fuming. 

"No, stay," she whispered as she sat on her bed half an hour later. He had turned to go, but when she spoke he turned around to look at her. She beckoned him to her, and took both his hands in hers and pulled him so he stood between her knees. She stared at him intently, searching his eyes for some indication of his feeling. "I hope you know you have nothing to worry about," she told him urgently, "and I hope you know that I really want to be with you." 

His turn to search her eyes, and he seemed to like what he saw. He folded her into his arms and the flood of her own emotion made her cry against his chest. Possibly she was just letting out the rest of her anger, and possibly she was just so relieved that Grasshopper wanted her. 

He kissed her tears away and they fell asleep, her against his chest with his arms around her.


	6. What a Scoundrel.

"Now, let's open our books to page 126," Charlotte told her class of 16 year olds, "and talk about Jane Austen. Yes, William?"

William, a lanky blonde boy, put his hand down slowly and asked, "Why do we have to read again?!"

She cleared her throat once and stared at him with a tilted head until he squirmed a little. Then she answered, "You are in English class, and this is what we do here."

William was silent, then, and Charlotte looked back down at the text while she composed herself. Still new, she had not gotten to know all of her students or her place yet in their lives, but she had a mentor teacher and a drive to do well at this career. That was enough. "Now, Jane Austen was born in--"

A tap at the window. Charlotte ignored it.

"--in England in 1775. Her parents were landed gentry--"

Tap. Tap. Tap. Charlotte made the mistake of glancing at the window, and what, or rather who, she saw there made her quickly turn away and become somewhat heavily absorbed in her book.

"--so she was mostly homeschooled, and they were very supportive of her writing--"

Charlotte swiped her hand toward the window to shoo her visitor, and at that a few students also turned toward the window, but she plowed on regardless.

"--but she wasn't very popular during most her life, not writing works as interesting to her contemporaries as those of Ann Radcliffe--"

All the students were staring avidly out the window now, for the figure outside was standing on his head and making faces at them. They laughed, and he made more funny faces, and Charlotte's face just sank into her hands as she moaned. "Fine...I can't exactly leave you guys here. Just go. Class dismissed. Go hang out in the gym."

With many a "WHOOP!" the students left, and Charlotte heaved the window open and leaned out of it, her visitor now upright and facing her solemnly. "Trying to ruin my work as well as my relationship, now?" 

Centipede the man shrugged a shoulder. "Not trying to ruin anything, Lottie. Just had a question." 

Charlotte examined the erstwhile bug in front of her. He was a little stockier than Grasshopper as a man, his mouth widened when he smiled, and his face was more plump and circular. A head shorter than Grasshopper, Centipede looked as much the man as his counterpart. He held his arms across his chest and stared at her expectantly, and she sighed loudly, dramatically, and pushed back from the window, ushering him inside.

Centipede folded his lanky frame into the window and came to hug her, but she ducked out of his embrace just in time. She held her arms akimbo still expecting him to ask her his question. His turn to sigh dramatically. "Just take all the romance out of the day, why don't ya? Fine." He raked a hand through his golden brown hair, clipped short. 

Charlotte tapped her foot a little impatiently as Centipede looked everywhere in the room except at her. He took a long time to answer, and she nearly walked out of the room and left him there to stew in his thoughts. "Are you...going to say anything?"

"Yeah, I..." She had startled Centipede out of his thoughts. She enjoyed that feeling. He looked flustered. She enjoyed that even more. "I wanted to know...do you want to go out some time, Charlotte?"

Charlotte bit off a laugh. "Really?" She asked, eyebrow arched, heightened to austerity. "That's what you want to ask me. You know very well that can never happen." 

He bit his lip. "Why not?"

Charlotte stayed quiet, staring him down, and he looked like he was about to throw a tantrum. "But what do you SEE in him?" She just ignored the question, waiting for him to continue. "He's so uptight and boring. Like you just expect him to be a professor at any minute." Pause. "You need someone more exciting. Someone who will surprise you with a rooftop sunset, say, or make you laugh all the time."

"Grasshopper makes me laugh!" Charlotte could not hold her silence any more. "Who are you to tell me what I 'need'? He takes me out and treats me right. He's not the type of person--"

"--bug," Centipede interrupted.

"--person," she emphasized, "to change himself to human out of jealousy."

Centipede sputtered. "Seriously?" 

"Seriously what?"

"Grasshopper changed himself to human exactly out of jealousy! He saw you spending so much time with me, and went off to get the upper hand!" He looked genuinely incensed, and Charlotte raised an eyebrow. 

"You realize he left before I started spending time with you, right?"

Centipede was silent.

"Seriously, what are you even doing here? You can't just come wherever I am and demand an audience! Grasshopper definitely doesn't disrespect me like you do." This statement left him dumbstruck. 

Speak of the devil. "What is _he_ doing here?"

Grasshopper. Excellent. 

"Just leaving. We're just leaving. Bye, Centipede!" She ushered Grasshopper out of her classroom, but leaned back so she could stare Centipede dead in the eye. "Learn some boundaries." Then they left, Centipede looking after them, wondering what exactly had gone wrong.

*****

"Okay, look, just hear me out," that gravelly voice sounded just behind her. Charlotte had been enjoying a pleasant walk to the grocery store, _alone_. Centipede caught up to her and fell into step, staying silent for as long as she needed. Charlotte pursed her lips: Centipede's problems were the last thing on her mind, after that argument -- nay, disagreement -- of the night before. 

_They had been laying on his bed in the peach pit, kissing as usual, becoming closer. Things became more heated, and Charlotte took that as a cue to progress to the next stage, and so started unbuttoning her shirt without Grasshopper noticing. Once done, she grabbed his hand and led it to her sternum, right above the center of her bra. He had jerked the hand away, and the rest of him, as if scalded, and she just stared at him bemused._

_"What's wrong?" She raised her eyebrows, and he mirrored her._

_What's wrong? What's wrong?" Grasshopper sputtered, staring in amazement at the body part his hand had just touched, "That is not appropriate. That's what's wrong. I wouldn't be a gentleman."_

_Charlotte blew her hair out of her face and sat up, glaring down at him. "It's all about rules and expectations with you, isn't it?" She just kind of exploded, and said what had been on her mind for a couple months now._

_Grasshopper's eyebrows furrowed as he propped himself up on one elbow._

_Apparently he was not going to retort, so she explained, "It's not like I was expecting to go all the way tonight, if you know what I mean, but I also believe we should get more comfortable and slowly build to that!"_

_"But--but--" His words failed him, and Charlotte smiled a small smile and leaned close to nip at his ear as she undid a few of his shirt buttons. "But I'm not going to wait until marriage to have sex with you." The heat had slowly been building in her over the course of their relationship, and she couldn't be expected to continue handling it like she had been. She wanted to go further! She knew he wanted to too, but as soon as she undid a few more buttons and moved her hand down his chest, Grasshopper pulled back to far he nearly fell off the bed, but saved himself and stood at the last second._

_Charlotte fell back into his pillows, beyond exasperated. "What is WRONG with you?" She sounded as if she could scream. Grasshopper backed away from the bed and leaned against the far wall, staring at his feet. After a second or two, he put his face in his palms and shook his head almost tragically, as if he were in anguish. She tried to care, but just huffed impatiently as he stayed silent._

_At the huff, he looked up as if struck. "I just don't want to take advantage of you."_

_Charlotte felt herself growing more impatient with him by the second. "Take advantage of me? That's so offensive!"_

_Something seemed to grip him as he crossed his arms on his chest and glared at her. "What's offensive about treating you like a lady?"_

_"URGH!" Charlotte stood, forgetting her unbuttoned shirt, and strode toward him, stopping just a foot away and glowering. "Did it ever occur to you that I could make my own decisions?"_

_Grasshopper pursed his lips. "That doesn't mean you know what's best."_

_Too much: this was so condescending Charlotte could not stand it. "Well, good luck deciding for me, because apparently what I want is detrimental to my health!" Stamping her feet as loudly as she could, Charlotte yanked open the door and slammed it again once she was in the hall. She made an effort to make as much angry noises as she could descending the stairs._

_She was about to wrench open the door when the wind left her at the voice. "Hiya, Lottie!"_

_She turned to the voice she hadn't heard in a month, since she'd told him off, and faced the entire Pit family sitting in their living room. They just stared at her in what seemed like shocked silence, and she could not figure out why until she noticed Centipede openly staring at her chest. Mortified, Charlotte looked down at her bare torso, only a little thankful she had worn a bra that day, and felt heat rising violently in her cheeks._

_"Oh, God Dammit!" She yelled, and yanked open the door, frantically buttoning her shirt as she walked down the path away from their home. No one tried to follow her, for which she was thankful. She figured someone had had to forcefully hold down Centipede. She looked back briefly to Grasshopper's window, and found that he was staring down at her with doleful eyes, his hand pressed to the glass._

On the bright side, Grasshopper hadn't shown up to bother her at all today, and honestly Charlotte felt much better with Centipede right now. 

That did not stop her, however, from saying, "What do you want?" in the most exasperated voice possible. Just because she could better deal with him did not mean she wanted to interact. 

He spoke in quiet, calming tones. "Okay, Lottie, what happened last night?" 

Charlotte glanced briefly at him with raised eyebrows, but just kept walking without saying anything. She rounded corner after corner, no destination in mind, pausing only briefly for traffic lights or when she could not decide which way to turn, and he kept pace with her. He did not speak and did not waver, but waited for her to be ready to tell him. 

Finally, she stopped and gazed around her. "You know, I have no idea where we are." 

Centipede outright laughed at her. "Are you kidding? We've been going around in circles and you don't know where?" 

"Circles?" Charlotte stared up into his eyes as he pointed behind him. 

"Well, not quite circles, but we've certainly been here before. Want to go up?" 

She looked past him at the building. She understood and nodded. "Why not?" 

They were up on the roof again, and she sat at the edge, crossed legs with her hands in her lap. Centipede...Centipede...God. "Can I call you something other than Centipede?" Charlotte turned to him exasperatedly as he sat down beside her. 

He arched an eyebrow, looking as if he were about to laugh at her again. "I've named myself Russell," he held out his hand to her, "Russ, for short." 

"Russ. Russ," Charlotte rolled it around her mouth. "I like it," she looked out over the river, at the bright, shining city across the bridge, squinting to see if she could see any trolleys in the Brooklyn streets. Centi- Russ just sat in silence with her while she thought. Grasshopper hadn't picked a name out for himself, yet. She wondered if he ever would. The thought of Grasshopper almost gave her a headache. What was his problem? Why _hadn't_ he bothered to talk to her today? 

Charlotte shook her head, flustered at her own thoughts, and Ce- Russ noticed. "What's wrong, Lottie?" 

Charlotte sighed and laid back on the hard rooftop, hands behind her head. "Grasshopper. He's-" she paused, "but you don't want to hear about my problems with Grasshopper." 

She felt a small whoosh of air as Russ settled himself next to her, elbow touching hers as he mirrored her pose. "Course I don't, but if it'll make you feel better," he murmured. 

Charlotte blew out breath and closed her eyes against the bright afternoon sun. He was the last person she should be exposing her relationship problems to. "I can't. It's too personal," she admitted. 

"Well, let me know," he said, as sincerely as he dared. They lay in silence for a while, before he asked, "Will you hear my out, now?" Some of the rakish gravel in his voice had come back as he said this, and Charlotte grinned. 

"Fine," she said, "but make it quick?" 

"Why? Where ya going?" She didn't answer. "Look, toots, I became human for you. You gotta give me a chance. I might as well be a bug for all the good it's doing me, and you know we go good together." 

She laughed. "Besides the fact that you just called me 'toots'?" 

He chuckled. "Yes, besides that. Grasshopper's boring. You need somebug more willing to show you the nightlife." 

Charlotte sighed and shook her head. "I'm not sure if I want exciting. I like calm and staying in and reading books. I like romantic dates and flowers and being treated like a lady." She thought about this last, and remembered Grasshopper's words. 

Russ moved until his face was over hers and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was tantalizingly close. Breath close. Kissing distance. One little movement, and _You are still in a relationship!_ Charlotte reminded herself. 

"Well, I can do all that," he whispered. His breath smelled like peppermint. "But I can also show you the exciting side of life," he continued, "so we'll stay in and read books and drink tea, then the next night we'll go out and dance and drink cocktails." 

Charlotte tried to shrink back, her head pushing into her hands, as he loomed in front of her. "Cent- Russel, I'm in a relationship." 

"I know," he whispered, "I'm just asking for your companionship. Not like I want your hand in marriage or anything." He pushed himself up and sat next to her, still staring at her face. 

Charlotte closed her eyes again and thought about it. Spending time with Russ would be harmless, and really not that bad. If Grasshopper was against it, he would have to deal with his jealousy. He's the one who pushed her away; not the other way around. 

"Okay," she mumbled. 

"Now, Lottie, I don't think you were listening," he began, and then paused. "Okay?" 

She sat up. "Okay." 

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?" 

Charlotte nodded, knowing she was probably making a mistake but not really caring at that particular moment. 

Russel offered her a wide, white grin showing all of his teeth and stood, helping her up as he did so. "May as well start tonight!" 

"What? Oh. No, I-" she gasped as he took her hand and pulled her along with him. 

"I've already made plans! You just come with me!" Charlotte strained to keep up as he went down the stairs inside the building and then ran along several streets, barely pausing for street lights. Several honks and curses from drivers later, they made it to a barber shop on a street corner. 

"What-?" Charlotte started, but Centipede took her hand, went "shh!" and led her to the back of the shop where he knocked on the wall six times in an irregular pattern. Charlotte stared as the wall opened to admit them, and her eyes grew wide as she saw a long, dark tunnel with seemingly no end stretched out in front of them. 

"Are you sure about this?" Charlotte whispered urgently, and Centipede smiled at her eagerly. 

"Course I am! Come on!" 

The tunnel was shorter than she thought it would be, and the minute the door behind them closed (Charlotte jumped) Russ knocked that irregular knock again and they were admitted by a group of smiling people to the most sparkling, glittering place she'd ever seen! "Welcome to your first speakeasy, toots!" 

Russ kept her hand in his as he led her to the bar, two filled glasses already where they settled. He handed a glass to her and took a small sip of his own. Charlotte took a moment to take in her surroundings. Three women in glittering burlesque were singing into microphones in front of a gleaming brass band on a stage, people in white or black formals sitting at round white tables in front of it. The air was hazy with cigar smoke, and Charlotte coughed only the few times she breathed straight from someone's smoke cloud. The walls were decorated with irregular art and posters, and waiters and waitresses flitted around the place, glittering as well. 

Charlotte looked at Russ, whose white suit he always wore with spats and a fedora made more sense suddenly. She looked down at her attire: a long skirt and collared shirt. A little out of place, but not the worst she could have been wearing. 

As she'd been distracted, Russ had been haled by a short, blonde man with a goatee, and they were whispering fervently together to the side as she looked on. Russ was still holding her hand, and she wondered what they were discussing. Seeing her lean toward them, Russ straightened and grinned, his teeth seeming to sparkle even more in this setting. 

"Alfred," he said to the man beside him, "this is Charlotte, my date." 

Charlotte almost objected to this, but Alfred didn't get time as he took up her free hand and eagerly shook it. "Pleasure. Pleasure," he mumbled, sounding breathless, bouncing up and down jovially. As he let her hand go, he backed into the crowd. "See you, Russ!" he called, and disappeared. 

"Who was that?" Charlotte inquired, and did not get an answer. Rather, Russel decided to distract her by pulling her into the crowd of glamourous people, drinking and partying. 

He took her glass from her and set it on a vacant table, pulling her to him and whispering, "Let's dance." After a few practice moves, Charlotte mastered a basic Charleston step and just kept doing that next to Centipede's more complex ones. That was fine. She was too distracted to learn much anyway. 

Finally, they sat, and he encouraged her to try her drink. She smelled it, and her nose immediately burned. "What _is_ this?" she almost put the glass down, but he reached out and pushed it to her lips, making her take a sip. She sipped, and swallowed, the drink burning all the way down her throat. She saw him watching her expectantly and felt her ears warm. 

"How was it?" 

"Strange." She took another sip, and another. She cringed. "Not awful, but why would you drink it?" 

Centipede laughed loudly. "Makes you feel good." 

"Huh." She watched him drink his and she drank a little more. They applauded as the song finished and stayed seated as another started up. Every now and then Russel was whispered to by a friend, of which he seemed to have no shortage. "How do you know all these people?" She put her chin in her hands and gazed at him, feeling strangely tingly. She did feel good. 

"Friends I've met through business. Hey, Lenny!" He stood to shake the hand of an approaching stranger, and Charlotte simply smiled up at them, a little dazed and still ecstatic at the glamour and glitter surrounding her. 

***** Charlotte giggled all the way home, and Russel did not help. He kept whispering silly things into her ear as he guided her through the night, under bright street lights, holding her hand to his arm. She could barely stand the pain in her abs, she laughed so hard at his jokes. She barely noticed when he guided her into Central Park, the Pit, and then the living room couch, chuckling at her as she lost her balance and simply fell back into the cushions. He sat next to her quietly and took her hand as she leaned into him, closing her eyes and murmuring, suddenly calm and more than a little tired. 

"Need a place to sleep, toots?" he whispered into her ear, and she nodded as she turned her face into his chest. Russel smiled and lifted a drowsy Charlotte into his arms. In no time at all he had dumped her quite informally on his bed in his old room, making her squeal. "Sorry, Lottie," he whispered, and she murmured something and drifted off to sleep. He put his old blanket over her. He knelt and pushed a small strand of hair behind her ear, staring at her loveliness in the light of the candle he had lit. Kissing her forehead, he whispered, "Night, Lottie," and crept out of the room. He had no intention of taking advantage of her, no matter how beautiful she was asleep or awake. 

He closed his door as quietly as he could and turned to tread down the stairs again, intending to leave to sleep in his own apartment and come back for her in the morning. He didn't get very far toward the stairs, though, when a fist came flying out of his peripheral vision to hit him square in the jaw. He smashed against the wall and sat back against it, looking up at his assailant. "Oh hey, Grasshopper. Didn't realize you were home!" 

"You. SCOUNDREL!" Grasshopper roared, and lifted him up to punch him again. Centipede stayed down against the wall, staring up at a heaving Grasshopper with a quickly-swelling eye, tasting blood in his mouth. He opened his mouth to speak, only to double over as he was kicked in the side. "How could you do this to her?!" Grasshopper yelled at him, and he was about to come in for another kick before he was swept up into the air and quickly entwined in a cocoon of white, his head the only thing showing. 

Stuck on the ceiling, Grasshopper looked around frantically to see what had come between him and his prey. Finally, his eyes settled on Mrs. Spider, who had gone to tend to Centipede on the floor below. "Mrs. Spider? Get me down from her!" He struggled against her webbing to no avail. 

Mrs. Spider clicked her tongue and mounted the wall to climb up to him. Before he knew it, her face was in his. "What, exactly, were you doing?" She asked in a deadly whisper. 

"What's going on out here?" Miss Ladybug stepped out of a door to look around, apparently also roused by the noise. She stared, horrified, at the ceiling, and then at Centipede's tiny groan as he tried to stand, she gasped and ran to him, crouching by him and quickly digging into her purse to find salve and bandages. 

Grasshopper stared at them for a second, and then a thin, strong, leathery leg was put under his chin and Mrs. Spider turned him to look at her again. With a look so deadly, even Grasshopper cowered, she asked, "What were you doing?" 

He could barely make any noise under her gaze, but finally he managed, "Protecting her honour." 

A gasp that sounded only slightly like a laugh sounded from below, and they both looked down to Centipede. "Whose honour?" 

"You know whose," Grasshopper spat down at him. "You've defiled her." 

Centipede looked taken aback. "Excuse me? How could you think that of me?" 

Grasshopper blinked. Once. Twice. "You...then why did you...why is she...?" 

Centipede coughed and spit a little blood into the handkerchief Miss Ladybug put to his mouth. "Man, you need to get a grip. I was putting her to bed. She had too much to drink." 

"Drink?" Grasshopper sputtered, surprised and angry. "What do you mean, drink?!" 

Centipede grinned as wide a grin as he could manage with his bruising. "Speakeasy. Knew you wouldn't approve." He cringed as Miss Ladybug lifted his shirt to examine a rather black bruise on his side. "She needed to have some fun." 

"Speakeasy? Drink?" Grasshopper looked from Centipede to Miss Ladybug next to him, and finally to Mrs. Spider. "Fun?" 

"You say that like it is a curse word, Grasshopper," Mrs. Spider cooed, trying to calm him. "This was obviously a misunderstanding." 

"Yeah, lighten up," Centipede grimaced and closed his eyes against the wall while Miss Ladybug bandaged him up. He had a cracked rib or two, as well, apparently. 

After a few seconds, Grasshopper looked imploringly at Mrs. Spider. "Will you let me down now?" 

"If you promise to not attack one of the family," she said smoothly, and Grasshopper nodded curtly once, and then a second time more sincerely. Mrs. Spider nodded and slowly began to unravel him, eating her web as she did so. Slowly, he was lowered to the ground, and stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do. 

"You can see her if you want, but I warn you if she hasn't woken by now she'll be asleep for a while. She did have a lot to drink, for someone who never drank before," Centipede said easily, and Grasshopper nodded. He went to push open the bedroom door and slip inside, closing the door softly behind him. There was no need, for as Centipede said, no amount of noise would wake Charlotte up now. 

Grasshopper walked to her and sat by the bed, feeling rotten. He had tried to defend her honour, and ended up attacking a friend. Admittedly, he and Centipede had always had a strained relationship, but never a bad one until now. This girl had caused him to do something quite out of character, he marveled. Grasshopper flattered himself that he cared a little bit more for her than Centipede. _Speakeasy, indeed!_ He glared at the wall in the generally direction of where Centipede sat, indignant. 

Putting his arm around her, Grasshopper laid down behind Charlotte, spooning her gently as he kissed her neck and ear. He blew out the candle on the nightstand opposite and closed his eyes, intent to stay with her until she woke in the morning, and slowly drifted to sleep. 

Centipede cringed as he stood. "Thanks, Miss Ladybug. Help a man down the stairs?" 

"Of course, dear," Miss Ladybug said, and let him lean on her as they slowly made their way to the living room, and then to the couch. "I'll get a blanket for you, dear," Miss Ladybug said, and she tottered off to do just that, pondering Grasshopper's behaviour all the time. What on Earth had possessed him? She clucked her tongue. _That_ was something they needed to discuss in the morning.


End file.
